Stiles Saved Me: The Road from Eichen
by Literallygooutofmyfreakingmind
Summary: "Though he doesn't know it yet, I could feel him there with me when he visited. I could see him as if I were having an out of body experience. I could hear him pleading with me to come back, to wake up, but the screams and the echoes inside my own head were louder."
1. Chapter One: Tether

So I had a really hard time with the ending of 5x16. I was so relieved when Lydia woke up that I was laughing through the fat tears that had started to fall. I would not have been able to stand seeing what Scott went through with Allison, again, mirrored in Stiles and Lydia. I was incredibly disappointed in the fact that there was no healing process from eichen in 5x17. So, I decided to write this. This is the first in an unknown number of chapters of this story, i'm thinking there will be about three chapters, but we'll see. This is also my first ever fanfiction, did I say ever? haha. Constructive criticism is most definitely appreciated, as well as your thoughts surrounding the story! Happy reading my fellow stydia shippers!

I own none of the characters or anything teenwolf

Chapter One

Tether-

Lydia:

I can't keep my eyes off of Stiles. I had heard him, felt him, when I was in that hell hole. Thoughts of him and the whole pack, but mostly him, had kept me going. The reality of their fates had kept me from, as Stiles would put it, "literally going out of my freaking mind." I had to survive to warn them, to save them, but I also had to get out.

And that's where Stiles came in. Though he doesn't know it yet, I could feel him there with me when he visited. I could see him as if I was having an out of body experience. I could hear him pleading with me to come back, to wake up, but the screams and the echoes inside my own head were louder. I would have loved to have woken up and left that horrid place with him right then, but at least one good thing came of staying under the waters of reality and inside of my own head for a bit longer. I have a much better control and understanding of my powers now, thanks to Meredith. I should really ask if she's ok, or have Stiles take me to check on her when I've healed enough. But, I digress.

Stiles saved me. After he came to visit, I knew he would have a plan to get me out. He's the one who always figures it out. He was frantic when he saw the bald patch on my scalp, and I knew he was right when he told my mother what they would do to me, what Valack would do to me. All I can say is that I'm glad Valack's dead, so he can't torture anyone else as he did me. Stiles and I always fight to save each other, the pack too, but there's something deeper between us two that there isn't between us and the rest of the pack. Ever since we've opened this "tether" between us, there is an emphatic need to ensure the other's safety. Well, at least there is for me, I'm not inside his head. However the need seems to be reciprocated considering that he just went to hell and back to ensure my safety.

So here I sit on this metal table, my mother's arms around me and my eyes, unwaveringly, looking at Stiles. He is my tether to reality and I feel as though if I take my eyes off of him, reality will slip from my fingers again. I can hear my mother talking to Deaton and Scott, but I can't be bothered to listen, they're probably just talking about how best to care for the wound in my skull or if I need to be taken to the hospital. Stiles is looking at me too, looking for anymore physical wounds I could possibly have. When he is certain that I don't have any more physical wounds that will put me in immediate danger, his eyes lock on mine. The emotions I see there, I'm sure, are mirrored in my own. Relief, happiness, and most definitely, love. The love that I see there isn't what I used to think love was. It isn't lustful, it isn't competitive, it isn't greedy. Instead it holds understanding, care, and reverence. As we're having a silent conversation with our eyes, I reach my hand to him. I need to convince myself that this is indeed real.

His big, warm hand grasps mine tightly, convincing himself as well that this is real. There's no helping the magnetic pull toward him as soon as our hands are connected. My mother notices and releases her hold on me, allowing me to fall into Stiles' chest, his strong arms around my back, one tenderly holding the side of my head opposite of the hole and the other pulling my chest tightly to his own. The emotions become overwhelming and tears finally start to brim over my lids and fall onto Stiles' soft flannel. I don't know how long we stay like that, it could be minutes or hours. All I know is that I finally feel safe, and most importantly, alive.

Stiles' is my rock, he's been with me through the hardest moments in my life, which yes, have all happened since I found out about the supernatural. But here we are, two almost humans, alive even after going through many horrendous supernatural events in the past few years. Though I can hear the talking getting louder around Stiles' and my embrace, it all just sounds like it's underwater. The only thing I can hear is the steady, strong, unisonous beats of Stiles' and my hearts, and him whispering,

"you still look beautiful when you cry."

When Stiles and I finally break apart, it's for him to gently wipe the remaining tears off of my reddened cheeks as he begins to tell me,

"It's time to g-."

But I cut him off saying,

"I'm not going anywhere without you."

My facial features are set and determined, and my hands are clinging to the back of his t-shirt under his flannel. After another silent conversation with our eyes and facial expressions, I turn to my mother and say,

"He has to come too mom, I'm not going home if I can't bring Stiles with us."

That's when I realize that there are a lot of people in the room witnessing this conversation. The whole pack is there. Kira, Malia, Liam, Hayden, and Mason had arrived since I was last paying attention to my surroundings. Melissa and the sheriff are there too. I guess since I hadn't spoken in awhile, everyone was surprised to hear my voice, so they all went silent and are staring at me. That's when I remember that Stiles and Malia are together, and I feel a little embarrassed for my behavior. I look to her and she's smiling, and she gives me a little nod. Stiles seems to not be concerned about it, so I stay clinging to him like a lifeline. My mother addresses me as well as the room,

"Of course Stiles can come honey, he did save your life. And if you need him to be with you, then I'm not going to stop it. All of this is my fault anyhow, I shouldn't have tried to keep my eyes closed to this supernatural reality around me for so long. My stubbornness almost got you killed tonight, and I could not be more regretful. I am forever indebted to Stiles, and to all of you for having the courage to stand up and save my daughter."

Everyone nods and murmurings of, "of course," and, "no problem," can be heard. However, the loudest is the proclamation of, "always," from the boy I'm currently clinging to.


	2. Chapter Two: Heal

Here's chapter two, hope you guys like it!

I own nothing Teen Wolf.

Chapter Two

Heal-

Lydia:

I never let go of Stiles, and he never lets go of me. Scott had taken the jeep which left Stiles free and clear to come with me. We sat in the back seat of my mother's car for the ride home. Well, it was more like I laid, clinging to Stiles and wincing through all the bumps of the road. Though I don't have a lot of visible, external injuries, I had been tortured for quite some time. Once I had let all of the pent up emotions out through my tears back at the clinic, I realized I was in pain. Melissa had brought some pain meds from the hospital for me, but the pills I had taken hadn't kicked in yet and the bit of pain that Scott had drawn from me only lessened the intensity for a short time. I was freezing and everything ached, my bones, my skin, my head especially, and the bruises on my ankles and wrists.

By laying on Stiles, his body absorbs most of the jostling from the road. He keeps whispering how sorry he is, how he should have gotten me out earlier, that he wishes he could take the pain. Though I wish I could ease his worry by saying,

"It doesn't hurt that badly,"

I know that he would see right through me and continue to fret over me. He is cradling me so gently that it makes me want to cry. Though the rest of my body hurts, my head is cradled so tenderly in the crease between his bicep and collar that the pain is soothed. His ever emotion filled eyes bore into mine as he continues to apologize and caress my cheek with his thumb. I allow myself to wallow in the emotion in his stare and I don't know if it's that or the pain meds, but the rest of my body begins to calm and the pain starts to dissipate slightly.

When the car stops, Stiles helps me get vertical and practically carries all of my weight as I lean on him with my arm over his shoulder and his protectively around my waist. We head to the door and upstairs to my room. My mother went straight into the kitchen as we came in. Now I can feel the meds starting to kick in, and it allows me to move more freely on my own as Stiles sits me on the edge of my bed, sitting next to me and keeping his hold on my waist. I lean my head against his collar and we both just breath for a minute. I know I desperately need to shower to feel human again, but I need to build up some strength to do so, as well as wick as much warmth from Stiles as possible considering how cold I am. My mother yells up the stairs,

"I'm getting some tea ready for you and making some soup, something easy for your stomach."

I reply with a very hoarse,

"ok, thank you!"

I try to get up to get my things together for a shower, but Stiles holds me there firmly, catching my eyes with his. He needs to be reassured that I'll be ok on my own for a few minutes, so I bring my hand to his jaw and caress his cheek with my thumb, giving him a slight smile. He lets out a long breath and I'm met with his essence; the smell of spearmint, old spice, and something that I've never been able to place that's just _him_. He leans his face heavily into my hand and closes his eyes for a second. He must be exhausted too. Knowing him he probably hasn't slept properly in days, maybe even weeks. He opens his eyes and says exactly what I'm thinking,

"You need to shower, huh?"

I reply with a nod since I'm starting to realize how sore my throat is, along with the rest of me. He pulls me up and says while scratching the back of his neck,

"Get whatever clothes and, uh, stuff you need. I'll go get the shower water hot for you."

I smile a little wider than I had before and do as he says while he heads to my en suite bathroom to get the water running. A few seconds later, my mom comes in with the tea and soup and places the tray on my bedside table telling me,

"I have to go and get a few more meds and things from the drugstore that Deaton said you really should have, just in case. I'll be back as soon as I can. Are you doing ok sweetie? Will you be ok here with just Stiles for a bit?"

I respond with another hoarse, "yes," and a, "we'll be alright."

She gives me a light hug and whispers,

"I'm so glad you're ok, honey."

She backs up and looks me over, before smiling and heading out the door. I hear the front door close and then her car pull out of the driveway right before Stiles returns from the bathroom. He smiles slightly at me and pulls me by my waist to the bathroom. He deposits me there and as I pull out a towel from under the sink he leaves with saying,

"Uh, if you need me I'll just be," pointing toward my armchair, "right there."

He gives me an awkward smirk and I give him as brilliant a smile as I can muster as he closes the door. I begin to undress and realize just how sickly I look. It seems as though I've lost about ten pounds, my skin is a sickly blue/purple color, and my hair is dull and lifeless as well as wet and caked with blood. I clamber into the shower and am so thankful for its warmth. The hot water over my aching body begins to release the tension and I sigh heavily into the night. I wash my hair carefully, staying clear of the bandages that Deaton had applied to the hole. Next I gently wash my body of all the sweat, blood, and dirt, afraid to make the aching worse by scrubbing too hard. I can hear voices in my room, obviously my mother has returned and is talking with Stiles. I could faintly hear her say she is heading to bed and the door shutting behind her.

Though I've been in the shower for a good twenty minutes, I still can't get warm, so I decide to draw a bath with lots of bubbles. As I'm sitting in the hot water, my mind starts to drift to the numerous times I had felt the imminent death of my friends in the recent days and weeks, and especially Stiles'. My eyes flick to the door and I feel a pressure on my chest as my breathing increases, panic setting in. I need to see him, I need to know he's ok. I call out as calmly as I can, so as not to alarm him,

"Stiles? Can you come in here, please?"

I hear him move quickly to the door and say,

"Lydia, are you ok? Are you sure I can come in?"

He slowly opens the door and pops his head in with his eyes closed, ever the gentleman. As soon as I can see him, my breathing slows considerably, but I know it won't slow completely until I can have him right next to me, until I can touch him. I take as deep a breath as I can to reply,

"Yes, I'm sure. There's bubbles, you can't see anything."

He slowly opens his eyes and is almost instantly at my side, noticing my quickened breathing. He's kneeling next to my claw foot tub staring intently into my eyes. I reach my hand that's closest to him for his which he is ungracefully flitting about my head, trying to figure out how to help the naked girl in front of him. I lace my fingers through his and grasp his big, warm hand to my still cold cheek. I close my eyes and my breathing begins to slow to normal, as I drink in his presence. He notably relaxes when he sees that my breathing has normalized and that I'm smiling. He sits down on the stool next to my tub, rubbing his thumb over and over the back of my hand. I don't know how long we sit like that, but the warm water of the bath begins to go cold, even though it had done a lack luster job at getting me warm even when it was hot, I know it's time to get out. I ask Stiles for my towel and he asks,

"Do you need me to go?"

I reply with,

"Please don't?" It comes out like a question, "Maybe just turn around while I towel off and get dressed?"

His honey brown eyes go a bit wide, but he nods shortly and spins on his heal, slapping his hands unceremoniously over his face. I giggle a little at that, which sounds so odd after having only screams and echoes and demands to be heard for so long. I quickly towel off and dress in baggy sweats and a BHHS sweatshirt. Saying, "All done," when I finish. I still can't believe it's my voice, it sounds like I've been smoking a pack a day for years. Stiles turns slowly, as though I was lying and am going to be standing naked behind him. He tells me,

"I'm going to go grab the bag of my stuff your mom picked up from my house on her way from the drug store. I'll be back in a sec."

He leaves the door open so I can see him while I get my toothbrush and toothpaste together. He comes back quickly, and he gets his toothbrush out too. We brush our teeth together while I firmly hold onto the back of his flannel with my free hand. I turn to him when we finish and he frowns slightly,

"I uh, I need to change my clothes?"

I nod slowly and turn as he had, slapping my hands over my eyes. I hear him chuckle lowly and start to change his clothes. When he's dressed, he comes in front of me and lightly pulls my hands from my face, furrowing his brow at the bruises on my wrists. I watch the concern etched on his face and then realize that he still has a dried trail of blood from his left ear. I pull myself from his grasp and soak a washcloth is hot water. I sit him down on the edge of the tub and hold his face in my hands, gently wiping the blood from his ear and neck. After placing the washcloth in the hamper, he's leading me by my lower back to my bed in his flannel bottoms and t-shirt. Even at night he wears some kind of flannel, I guess. I start to get comfy on my usual side of the bed and quickly braid my hair to the opposite side of the hole in my head. I see stiles debating something in his head before he grabs a pillow from the bed and says,

"I'll just," pointing to the floor next to the bed, "sleep down here."

My eyes go a bit wide and I know I look like a deer in headlights, because I don't want to be alone, even if he is right beside the bed. I say determinedly,

"No you are not, I can't be alone right now, I can't be without _you_ right now. Please?"

He sighs lightly and puts the pillow back on the bed, knowing I need him. I'm sure he can feel it too, the tether pulling us tighter than ever after having nearly lost either of its halves tonight. He turns to my bedside table and hands me the tea my mom had brought, and I drink it greedily as I'm thirsty and it makes my throat feel exceedingly better. He climbs in under the covers next to me and takes the empty cup, setting it back on the table. For proprieties sake, I'm sure, he attempts to keep a good distance between us under the covers when we both lay down facing one another. However, I'm not having that. I scoot over to him and wrap my arms behind his back, pulling him to me as tightly as possible, without hurting myself, and sticking my head in the hollow of his throat, my freezing nose on his neck. He starts a bit and is stiff for a second, but then relaxes and says,

"Oh my gosh, Lydia, you are so cold!"

He pulls me to his chest and begins rubbing his hand up and down the top of my arm, trying to get me warm. The shower hadn't warmed me at all, he seems to be the only thing that works. Maybe it's because he's my tether to the living world, and only he can pull me back from the death of my banshee world. With him so close, I warm up quickly, the smell of his throat soothing me. I feel him, very slowly, lingeringly, kiss my forehead and whisper,

"So glad you're ok, Lyds."

I quickly drift to sleep after that, finally warm and safe in his ever present arms.


	3. Chapter Three: Dreams

Hello my lovely readers! Here's chapter three! Just a heads up; I may be changing the rating to mature because of the next chapter. It went in a direction that I really like, because I feel like stydia has been building for so many years. That's all I'll say though, because I don't want to spoil anything! Happy reading!

Dreams-

Lydia:  
Though one can be mentally and physically drained, your brain never truly sleeps.

The last thing I knew I was falling asleep, safe and sound in Stiles' arms, but I've just woken up back in this hell hole. Was being saved all a dream? Had I conjured Stiles up in my brain because he makes me feel safe? Dr., if you can call him that, Valack is here, asking me questions again, yelling at me to focus. Asking me, "what happened to Stiles? I know you know what happened to Stiles." And then I see Stiles, dead, on the ground as a vision. But that's when I realize that this is the dream. I can see the silvery edges around his form, the strange echoing quality to Valack's horrendous voice. "Wake up Lydia, get back to Stiles!", I yell in my head. And so I do, gasping and wheezing, eyes moving in every direction, looking for the only face I want to see right now.

And he's there, cradling my head to make sure I didn't hurt myself while, I'm sure, I thrashed about in my sleep. My hearing comes back to reality and he's saying over and over again,

"It's ok, I'm here, everyone is ok, just breath."

Then I realize that I'm still gasping like a fish out of water, and there's a cold sweat on my forehead. I pull myself into Stiles and breath in his scent, bringing my breathing to normalcy with my arms over his shoulders and my hands in his hair, pulling his head into the crook of my neck. He has his long arms wrapped around me, hard, still chanting his mantra into my neck. Very slowly, I come out of the shock. A momentous realization hits me then. I would go out of my freaking mind if anything were to happen to the boy holding me to himself now. His arms secured around me, his murmurs and hot breath on my neck remind me that he's ok, that he's alive.

This thought makes me incredibly calm, happy. And so I stay in that position, savoring the alive-ness for quite some time. Though incredibly soothing, I become hyper-aware of his lips moving over and over again on my neck, because of how overly sensitive my skin is right now. After being so numb for so long, all of these feelings and emotions make my body like a live-wire, every nerve ending becoming inordinately responsive. Before I can stop myself, I hear a tiny, breathy moan pass my lips right into his ear, and my leg which is entwined with Stiles', lightly pulls his toned thigh into my center. Stiles becomes a statue, he even stops breathing. Now I wish this was the dream. We both are stock still for a spell until I finally start to babble,

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean, I'm, uh. Your lips and, breath hot, gah. Sorry, I didn't, I love you."

I can feel the blush creeping up my chest to my face and my eyes go wide, as the last part of my statement was as clear as day. Now this could definitely be one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. However, Stiles relaxes again and says simply,

"Well, that's good."

What does he mean? Does he mean...? My head spins at the possibility of him having the same depth of feelings for me. Does he really love me too? Is that what he means? I pull back my head to look him in the eye and the son of a bitch is smirking at me, smirking with a twinkle in his eye. Of course this would be Stiles' reaction. When I look at him questioningly, he pulls my head gently back in and whispers,

"It's good, because I love you too."

I hug him to me as tightly as possible then, constricting my limbs around him like a snake. Stiles pulls me closer as well and burrows into my neck again. I can feel the smile on his lips which are resting against my collar. We hold each other and simply breath the other in for a few minutes. I look at the clock, 5:18, and realize it's almost morning, the black sky outside my window starting to turn to navy. I finally ask,  
"What time did we finally go to sleep?"

He replies,

"About 2 AM, you need to get more sleep, Lyds. Well, we both do."

I'm content to sleep for days, as long as it means I can stay safe in Stiles' embrace. The exhaustion from the night before, well, a couple of hours ago, begins to creep back in. So I just nod and hum my approval to more sleep and burrow deeper into his arms and chest. Before I drift off I tilt my head up from resting on his collar, leaving a slow, open mouthed kiss on the underside of his jaw, whispering, "I love you," while hearing his heart jump erratically. He kisses my forehead like before, but instead of telling me he's glad I'm ok, he tells me he loves me too.


	4. Chapter Four: Sunshine

Sunshine-

Lydia:

When I wake the next time, I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be and not in some horrid dream land again. During sleep I had shifted to laying almost all of the way on top of Stiles. My head in the crook of his neck, his arms around my back, and my left leg between his with my center on his hip bone. Though my head is pounding, and the aching feeling in my bones and skin is back, I find myself admiring his sleeping face with the late afternoon sun gracing his features. He looks so carefree when he sleeps, much more boyish. He must feel that I'm awake because he soon starts wiggling a bit, seemingly trying to figure out what this 110 pound weight is on him. He finally gains consciousness enough to remember where he is and looks down at me. Smiling sleepily, he rubs soothing circles on my back, allowing time for the haze to clear fully from his brain. He soon asks,

"how are you feeling?"

I answer truthfully because I know he'll see right through me if I lie,

"My head is pounding, and my skin and bones sort of ache all over...but I'm alive, and that's the important part."

As I was speaking he lifted his hands off of me and his eyes went wide with concern, thinking he had been adding to my pain by rubbing my back. However, it was quite the opposite. He had been soothing my aching skin by rubbing my back, and when he released his hold on me I made a pitiful whimpering noise and he could see the pain in my face. I spoke then, pleading with my words as well as my eyes,

"Stiles, please, you were helping by rubbing my back, considerably. Please."

So he gently lays his arms back around me and continues his massaging, watching me closely. I close my eyes as the pain in my back starts to ebb away slightly, smiling contentedly and laying my head back down shifting closer into him. The only mistake was moving my leg a bit too much, accidentally rubbing Stiles', ahem, downstairs morning situation. I quickly looked up with an apologetic expression. He made a miniscule low moaning noise in the back of his throat, his face scrunching up, and his hands stuttered in their pattern for a second, but then started right back up again. I started to apologize, but he cut me off,

"I guess we're one for one in the, making embarrassing noises at inopportune moments, game."

I had to laugh at that, which hurt, a lot. I wince and Stiles says, "You need to take some more meds, everything must have worn off by now that you took last night." He slowly reaches, so as not the jostle me, to the bedside table where there's a pill bottle and a glass of water that weren't there last night. My mother must have put it there. I take them from Stiles and swallow the meds, hoping that they kick in quickly. I lay back on top of him as he places the glass and bottle on the table, hoping his warmth can wick the pain away until the meds start working their magic. I start having to focus on my breathing because the pain is almost unbearable now. Squeezing my eyes shut tight, I begin taking short, deliberate breaths. I can feel Stiles exuding pure worry above me. He begins rubbing my back again which helps a little, but it's like when I was finally, fully awake, the pain was too.

About ten minutes into waiting for the meds to kick in, it becomes too much and I gasp, begging Stiles to distract me somehow. I can tell he's thinking, but soon his hands snake under the back of my sweatshirt and rub my back, skin on skin. I'm still in terrible pain, but it definitely helps. He then tilts my head gently to the side with his own and starts kissing down my jaw and neck, with wet, opened mouth kisses. It feels as though the burning ache in my bones and skin moves to my center and the places he's placing his lips, his tongue, instead. But the ache quickly becomes one of pleasure rather than pain.

I'm more than 100% sure this is not his intention, he just didn't want me hurting, he had no idea it would affect me this way. He has no idea how sensitive my skin is, my nerves are. Pretty soon instead of gasping, I'm panting, slow shallow breaths, and my hands go to his hair, pulling his mouth harder onto my neck and collar. He stops and removes his head when we realizes the change, and my center throbs its disagreement. He looks deeply into my eyes, asking silently if I'm ok. I nod and let out a breathy huff, relieved that the intense pain has dissipated into a low boiling throb. Stiles apologizes,

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, uh, I just didn't know what to, I didn't know how to help you. That was all I could think of..."

He trails off, looking at my flushed face apologetically.

"It did help though," I say, "The ache just sort of morphed into a different kind..."

Stiles beamed at me, he freaking beamed. So I hid my face against his collar again and allowed him to continue rubbing my back under my sweatshirt. I almost fell asleep, under his tender hands and the caress of the heavy meds. However, the emptiness of my stomach finally roused me. I looked up at him and he knew what it was that I wanted. Stiles helps sit me up and he scrambles off of the bed to take my hands to help me stand. I feel dizzy as soon as I'm up and I give Stiles a confused look, which he returns. I'm up for about three seconds before my vision waves and I'm falling into Stiles, which is the last thing I remember before waking up sitting across his lap in my armchair. I gasp into his neck trying to get my bearings. Stiles pulls his head back to look worriedly at my face, holding my face and brushing my cheek with his thumb. That was one hell of a head rush. He asks,

"Are you ok? Was it just a head rush? or was it that you're hungry, too?

I smile and say,

"I think it was a lot of both. Considering that I haven't actually slept in quite some time and we just slept for about 14 hours may have something to do with it too. I think I just need to take things slower."

Stiles' worried expression finally breaks at that and he cradles my head to his collar, rocking slightly, whispering,

"Let's do that. I don't want this kind of thing to happen again, you scared me, Lyds."

I reply by pulling myself tighter to his chest with my arms around his back and hands in his hair, lightly, soothingly, scratching his scalp. I feel the tension leave him and he relaxes into my embrace, holding me more firmly with the arms that are wrapped around my back. After fainting, I'm so tired again, the need for food is all but forgotten. However Stiles has different plans. When I'm almost falling asleep in his lap, he decides to slip one arm under my legs and stands up slowly. I fix myself to his shoulders and neck as tightly as possible and let him carefully carry me downstairs. He deposits me in one of our plushy dining table chairs and sits in the one next to me. He looks back and forth between my eyes for a while and I finally say,

"You really didn't have to carry me, I could have walked."

He responds by saying,

"Slow, remember?"

I snort a bit and smile, and he places his hand on my cheek, grinning back at me. I close my eyes and lean my head heavily into his hand, which he soon accompanies with his other. I exhale, long and slow and just let him hold my head up. My brain is so tired, it feels as though it's been stretched in more directions than physically possible, which could actually be the case. After a few minutes, I turn and kiss his palm. My stomach growls, making us both laugh and popping our little bubble. I lean from his hands as he stands up, asking,

"What do you feel like eating?"

I have to think for a minutes before I reply, because it's been so long since I've actually eaten and I'm starving, yet I don't want to upset my stomach. I finally respond with,

"Maybe just some soup? I'm sure my mom put the leftovers from the bowl she made me last night in the fridge."

Stiles nods in agreement, turning to walk toward the fridge. Though it's absolutely the last thing I should be thinking about, considering where I was just twenty four hours ago and the terrible danger the town is in, I can't help but enjoy the view as he walks away from me. I start thinking about the events of last night, smiling to myself. Did we really say, "I love you," to each other? Or was that a dream? No, it was definitely real. I can't believe I finally told him how I feel... did my best friend just, finally, become my boyfriend? I guess as my mind drifted, Stiles was trying to ask me something, but he turned and caught were I was looking and creepily smiling. When I came to, he was turned, leaning against the refrigerator and grinning at me with his arms crossed. I quickly flicked my eyes to his so I wasn't staring at his crotch, and he quirked his brow at me. When did his arms get so toned?

"I said, do you want tomato, of broccoli cheddar? I guess your mom stocked the fridge. Also, do you maybe want juice or milk to help fill you up more, or stick with water for now?"

I could feel the blush creeping up my neck to my face as I looked at him, finally responding with,

"Broccoli cheddar and milk I think. Hopefully the milk isn't too much, too soon, but I'm starving, so..."

I essentially spit out my words because I'm so embarrassed and nervous. Stiles turned back to the fridge to get my selections, but this time I'm aware of my surroundings and not inside my head. He sticks his rear out a bit and shakes it as he puts my soup in the microwave, making me burst into hysterics. Though it feels so good, refreshing to laugh, it also hurts my head tremendously. My laughter dies quickly, ended with a choked groan and my hands holding my head together over my lap. Thank the lord Stiles was crouching in front of me so quickly, holding over my hands as well. Otherwise, I would have gone headlong into the floor. Of course he's apologizing,

"Lyds, I'm so sorry! I didn't know it would make you laugh so hard, I'll try to keep my antics to a minimum."

I take a deep breath and his scent calms me, sitting myself up straight again,

"It's really ok, I need to laugh, it feels good to laugh, just not quite at that magnitude. I think the whole moving thing today is so hard compared to last night because all of my adrenaline is gone. I just need to keep reminding myself to not do anything full throttle."

He's still holding my head and is clearly drinking in my words, my voice. The microwave beeps and he leans in to kiss my forehead before bringing over my dinner.

We decided earlier to sprawl on the couch and watch some nature documentary. I wanted to watch New Girl, but Stiles argued that it would make me laugh too much, that we should watch something boring. Of course he was right, so that's what we did. We really weren't watching it, we were half asleep, me with my legs across his lap and head in the crook of his neck, and him with his arms around me. I really appreciate his arms. This is how my mom finds us when she gets home late in the evening. I look up as she passes and she doesn't even ask if I'm ok. She knows I'm ok when I'm with Stiles, so she just smiles as she heads upstairs, mentioning in passing that I should change the bandage on my head after my shower.

Stiles takes a deep breath, saying,

"We should probably head to bed. You know, rest from all our rest."

That makes me giggle a little as we stand and head for the stairs. We make it up to my room without incident, and my mother has left the bandaging material on the end of my bed. I tell stiles with my eyes that I'll be alright and head to the bathroom with a change of clothes as he rifles through his bag.

I realize that I look much more lively than I did yesterday as I undress. My skin is almost back to its normal shade of peaches and cream and my hear is vibrant again. I shower quickly, avoiding my bandage, smiling as I do so. I decide to shave my legs tonight since it's been awhile. I towel off and get dressed, next attempting to re-bandage the hole in my head, but I can't hold my hair out of the way and clean it. It's like the tether also allows us to read each other's mind, because as soon as I realize I need help, Stiles is knocking on the door. I tell him to come in, but I don't really want him to see this, because I know how he gets squeamish. Before I can stop him, he's holding my hair out of the way. I just smile up at him in awe. I guess love does conquer all, even a gargantuan aversion to all things gore. I go about cleaning and dressing the wound, working around his hands.

When I finish, I wash my hands and immediately turn to hug him. He just chuckles and hugs me back, rocking us a little. I realize my head is really starting to ache again and mention it,

"My head is really starting to hurt again. I think I might need to take meds again. How many hours apart is it supposed to be?"

Stiles grabs the bottle from the counter, reading,

"8-10, and it definitely hasn't been that long..."

He says, frowning. He holds my head gently in his hands, trying to read the pain in my eyes, like he may be able to draw it out somehow. He leans in and kisses my temple, whispering,

"I wish I could take it, Lyds, I wish you didn't have to feel any of this, you don't deserve this."

I reply,

"You don't either, Stiles, I wouldn't want you to have this pain either, the feeling is mutual, remember?"

I hear him sigh a little saying,

"I still don't like you in pain..."

We hang onto each other for a bit longer and then brush our teeth and head to bed, as if we do this routine every night. Everything with Stiles is as easy as breathing, we work together in harmony. It makes me wish I hadn't been so scared to tell him how I felt for so long. He realizes my mind has drifted away while he turned out the light and we got comfy in bed and asks,

"What're you thinking about?"

I reply simply with a smile and,

"You."

He grins and pulls me tight to him, whispering,

"I keep thinking I'm going to wake up, that this is a dream." He pauses for a minute, his body suddenly going stiff at his train of thought. "I keep thinking I'm going to wake up and you still be in there, or that I passed out when you were...gone, and I'm going to wake up and I'll never see you again...I would go crazy, Lyds, this is real, right?"

I can feel him shaking, as well as him starting to count his fingers behind my back, over and over. I guess it's his turn to freak out. I'm kind of amazed it didn't happen sooner. With how many directions his thoughts take him, it's actually a miracle. So I do what I did last time I was with him and this happened. I take his head in my hands telling him to look at me, and kiss him. This time it's different though. The last time it had made me realize that I love him, this time I already knew it, and so did he. I can feel him relax into me, placing his hands on my lower back, pulling me tight to him. I slip my leg over his hip pushing my center into him and my hands into his hair, tugging a little. I let out the tinniest of whines as he kisses a bit slower from my lips to my ear. I hear him whisper, "slow, remember?", before he grazes my ear with his teeth and just holds me to himself. I'm a bit upset, out of breath, and turned on. He's right though, too much activity could be bad considering I couldn't even belly laugh without my head screaming in pain.

We're both trying to get our breathing back to normal when I say,

"I admire your self control, I don't know how you do it. And also, I love you."

I can feel him grin and he exhales slowly,

"It's more difficult than you think, and I love you too."

I can tell he's thinking hard about something, I can almost feel the wheels turning in his head. He finally asks,

"Isn't having an orgasm supposed to help with a headache?"

I hum in response, not really sure where his train of thought is going and he says,

"Well maybe I can give you one?" Nervously, "I hate that I got you worked up, and I also want to make you feel better, to take your pain in any way that I can..."

I'm smiling hugely and I respond,

"You're the most thoughtful boy I've ever had the privilege of knowing. I actually think that might be the best idea you've had all day."

He exhales the huge breath that he's obviously been holding and says, grinning a bit,

"Well, thank you."

I extract myself enough from him to turn away, facing the opposite wall, my back pushed into his chest as I pull his arms around myself. He's a board behind me, obviously nervous, so I nuzzle my face in his palm before kissing it and placing his hand over my stomach. I turn my head to kiss his cheek and place my hands behind my head and in his hair. I can feel him relax into me and he pulls me closer with his right hand, which is on my stomach. He lifts his other hand off the bed and fully grasps my breast. I exhale and arch my back, pushing myself into his hand. His right hand slips under my sweatshirt and lightly massages my stomach and above my panty line. The ache in my skin turns to electricity where he touches. I guess being oversensitive isn't always a bad thing. Stiles continues his light touches, every once in awhile gently squeezing my breast, rubbing his thumb lightly over my nipple. His slowness, tenderness has me near the edge, and he hasn't even done anything. I wiggle my hips a bit against him and he lets out the absolute sexiest noise I've ever heard, which is saying something considering who I am. It was somewhere between an inhale, a groan, and a moan, all at the same time. I exhale at that and then he's moving his right hand down, into my underwear. He rubs back and forth on the absolute lowest part of my stomach and I'm in knots, breath tight in my lungs. He finally slips two fingers down to my wetness and I exhale with a tiny moan. I hear him groan into my ear,

"Mm, you're so warm Lyds, so beautiful."

He soon finds my clit and starts slow, torturous circles. I tilt my head back onto his shoulder and grasp his hair a bit tighter, biting my lip. He starts to circle a bit faster, laving breathy, open mouthed kisses from the crook of my neck to right behind my ear. My body is absolutely humming at his every move, his every touch. He starts alternating between slow and fast circles and licks the shell of my ear. I let out a low groan at that and clench my eyes shut. His hips buck lightly, probably accidentally, into me at the sound, which makes me moan a little bit and press back hard against him. Stiles moans low in my ear,

"Lydddia, no."

Right before he moves his left hand away from my breast to pull me tight to him so I can't move. He keeps circling, whispering,

"Don't move, this isn't about me, this is for you, stay still."

He kisses right below my ear for emphasis. I listen to him, relaxing into his body and pulling my arms down to grasp his left arm tighter around my center. All the while his right hand is still working magic. He keeps pushing me so close to the edge with his quickened pace, but then he inevitably slows down. I'm panting at this point, my stomach tight; something's got to give. I lift my right leg, bending it over the side of his right thigh, opening myself up to his extremely talented fingers. I've always wondered what those incredibly long and dexterous fingers could do. He moans lowly in my ear before suddenly slipping the two fingers on my clit into my core, pressing my clit with his thumb. I gasp, squeezing his left hand, my core clenching hard on his fingers, god those fingers.

He pauses for a second letting me adjust, kissing and sucking along my neck. Soon he pumps into me, circling with his thumb, slowly gaining tempo. Every time he withdraws his fingers, I'm clenching on him, trying to keep him inside. It feels so right to finally have part of him inside. I can't seem to catch my breath and he starts to pound into me with his fingers, so close. Before I know what's happening, he's beckoning within me, hitting my g-spot and simultaneously pushing hard on my clit. I come hard and can feel myself dripping onto his fingers. My eyes feel exhausted and my breathing is attempting to normalize. I can feel a lazy smile on my lips, as well as on his against my neck. I'm still grasping his hand tightly to my stomach and he keeps his right hand inside of me, which I'm extremely happy about. I take a deep breath and turn my head so I can kiss him, slowly, lazily. He pulls away and gives me a strange look before he pulls his right hand out and sinks the two fingers that were just in me, deep into his mouth. I'm sure I have a shocked look on my face, but he doesn't see it because his eyes have closed and he's sucking every last bit of me from his fingers. A huge wave of arousal washes over me at that. He's eating me, and loving it, humming around his fingers. I turn to face him then, sucking on his neck a bit while he finishes off his fingers. He pulls me tight to himself then, burying his face in my hair and whispering,

"You taste so _fucking_ good."

I can feel a blush creeping up my neck and I say back,

"No one's ever tasted me before, they didn't want to."

I hide in his throat then, breathing in his scent. He makes a disgruntled noise and says,

"They were idiots if they didn't want to taste you, to taste that, fruit of the gods. I don't think I'll ever crave ice cream again if I can have that, seriously though."

I laugh lightly at that and gently whisper,

"No more ice cream for you, then."

I feel him swallow heavily and he just squeezes me in response. We lay like that for a spell, but it's very evident that Stiles is still very much turned on, considering the hard length I feel against my hip. I slip my hand down and rub over his length once before he grabs my hand saying,

"No, it's ok, I-"

But I cut him off, arguing my case,

"Stiles, it doesn't take much effort, I'll be ok. Please let me do this for you, for us, after what you just did to me. God Stiles, I've never had an orgasm that felt that good. There was so much thought and tenderness, and emotion. Please?"

Stiles gently sighs and releases my hand. I smile greedily and slip my left hand under his shirt. You wouldn't know it with all the layers he wears, but he definitely has an athletes' body. Toned and tight. I tease his happy trail, enjoying the small startled noise he makes in the back of his throat and the long breath he lets out. I catch his eye and slip my hand down the edge of his hipbone under his boxers. He can't look away from me, his breath coming out is shallow pants, his arms around me, one on my lower back and the other in my hair. I finally reach his length and grasp the base, loving the deep rumble of a groan that reverberates through his chest. I keep my eyes locked on his as I slowly slide my hand to the tip, wetting my hand with pre-cum and sliding back down. He tilts his head forward, resting his forehead to mine, letting out shallow breaths as I start to pump. I catch his lips in mine as I pump faster. He has to pull his lips away to inhale sharply, scrunching his eyes closed, and then moaning. I pull his head into my neck with my free hand as I begin twisting my hand while I pump. He groans my name while sucking on my throat. I let out a tiny moan and then his whole body seems to go stiff, and he says,

"Lyds, I'm..."

I just pump harder for a few more seconds, and he comes all over my hand.

I gently squeeze his length before pulling my hand out of his boxers. He leans his head away from me, a huge smile plastered on his face. I lift my hand to my mouth and start sucking him off of my hands, humming at the flavor. He just stares in awe. I throw my arms around his neck, and my left leg over his hip, constricting around him. He wraps his arms around my back tightly and buries his face in my hair. We breath each other in for a few minutes, enjoying our little bliss bubble. We both realize that we need to clean up, otherwise everyone is going to be a sticky mess in the morning. So we separately head to the bathroom, coming back to snuggle into each other and drift off. But not before I whisper,

"Thank you, handsome."

And he responds,

"No, thank you, gorgeous."


End file.
